Personification of Poetry exercise

Mostly she crouches,
Perched lightly on the ends of beds,
The edges of chairs.

Lanky arms wrapped clumsily around her knees and upper body
Lazily allows her hair to fall, dingy in front of her eyes,
Sticking lightly on her vasaline lips

And its not so much that she’s beautiful
So much as she’s uncomfortable
Her body attempting to escape her skin
Through protruding collar bones and stiletto sharp elbows
Eyes wide and watery

She’s been fired four times in the past six months
And the majority of her days are spent
Curled into her dead grandmothers couch
Fingers idly scratching the cat
Alternating between Nabokov and daytime soaps
She desperately waits for the phone to ring
But just ignores it and turns up the TV when it finally does

At night she visits dive bars with live bands
Whisky and ginger ale clinks lightly in her hand
As she starts to sway
Round hips circling to gravely blues
With her free hand she lifts and drops her hair
Twirls her wrist
Clutches her heart

And when they talk to her, the smile she offers is pursed
But she allows them to set their big hands on her small knees
And when they kiss her she enjoys
Their sand paper stubble arresting on her upper lip

And when they roll out of bed in the morning
She washes the sheets immediately
And then wonders mostly naked to the kitchen to feed the cat

Bare feet sticking to the blank little sheets of paper that litter the house
She shakes them off, climbs onto her bare mattress and
With coffee in one hand,
She carefully circles the promises printed in the paper.